


wherever you stray, i follow

by somefeministtheatrepls



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Office Romance, Sort Of, because tis the damn season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somefeministtheatrepls/pseuds/somefeministtheatrepls
Summary: it's Christmas Eve, Blaine's office is open, and he's just looking forward to the best part of the day: the elevator ride down with his cute coworker.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 26
Kudos: 71





	wherever you stray, i follow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlurglesmurfKlaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlurglesmurfKlaine/gifts), [EJwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJwrites/gifts).



> inspired by [ this ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/manicpixieshitpost/636954067376144384) tumblr post and my following commentary for aly, in which i stated that i could write an office romance, except there’s nothing fucking romantic about an office. except perhaps leaving.
> 
> also, huge thanks to Aly & EJ for being incredible cheerleaders for this one, and, well, the next. y'all are truly the best.

Blaine walked past the security guard on his way in, coffee in hand and a smile on his face. “Morning!” 

The security guard grinned back, waving at Blaine as he checked in what was probably the 50th guest of the day already. That was the norm in these ridiculously large high-rise office buildings, much too crowded and busy, even on the day before Christmas. 

Blaine remembered the excitement he used to feel on Christmas Eve when he was a kid, like there was magic in the air, like anything could happen. But no amount of tinsel or twinkle lights could masquerade this try-hard modern high-rise from what it really was. A place of work, where he had to be, every day, day in and day out. Not even the jingle bells and mistletoe adorning the lobby could hide that. 

It truly spoke to the bullshit nature of the corporate American machine that Blaine’s office considered Christmas Eve a half day - though he supposed it could be worse, he could be a waiter at a fancy restaurant open _on_ Christmas Day. At least he was just a receptionist, not serving entitled customers for a crappy pay, like his roommate Rachel. 

It was a day job, the same as Rachel’s waitressing. A gig until he could make acting so profitable it paid the rent, utilities _and_ morning coffees. Receptionist work had been something Blaine sort of fell into during college, working the day shift at the Admissions center, cold-calling prospective students for tours and alumni for donations. That led to a job at a talent agency, where he somehow thought he could make the transition from front desk calling the talent to _being_ the talent. When that got too depressing, he landed a job at a bank, but after one robbing scare during his first year, he hightailed it out and finally landed his current gig, at a law firm that paid him way too well for him to be mad at the attorneys’ sometimes-snippy comments. Who cared if they thought his bowties looked silly? They were paying him well enough for him to _afford_ them. 

Blaine unlocked the front doors, careful to not spill his to-go cup, setting his bag and coat down and settling into his desk. A whopping thirty-five emails sat unread in his inbox, mostly stemming from getting caught in a project with a laid-back graphic designer and his overzealous supervisor. Sam was great at what he did, he just was not great at working during daylight hours (though during the winter, what even are those?), and his supervisor had a tendency to “follow up” every few hours on projects that weren’t due for weeks. 

He bid a chipper, “Good morning!” to the few stragglers who actually came into the office, but he didn’t expect the day to be busy – it was only a half day, after all. And mostly everyone had left for vacations or family time days ago. Blaine was just hoping for an uneventful morning from the phones, and the sweet release of the clock striking noon. Leaving was, of course, the best part of his day. 

Not just because leaving a boring office job simply _is_ the best part of working a boring office job, but because of _him_. 

_Kurt Hummel._

Kurt had joined the firm a few weeks before Blaine, as part of one of the tougher attorneys’ team. His official title was Secretary, but Kurt had once said he felt more like a personal assistant – apparently, Mr. Brown was a brilliant but scatterbrained man, and Kurt spent more than half his time just reminding the man he _had_ called that client back, he _hadn’t_ filed that motion, and he _was_ late for that closing. 

It sounded exhausting, but from the look of Kurt’s clothes, he was also compensated fairly enough to tolerate it. 

Kurt usually started his morning in the office earlier than Blaine – most times having already had his coffee and yoghurt before Blaine had even unlocked the front doors – but they always left at the same time. The first few times, it obviously wasn’t planned. They’d happened to walk out at the same time, playing the fun, “after you, no, no, after _you_ ” game until Blaine was blushing so hard, his face matched his polo. A few weeks in, Kurt would wait for Blaine to finish clearing his desk and take the elevator down with him. 

They started with small talk, the weather, lunch, the state of the conference room after the particularly explosive firing of a loose-lipped executive assistant who not only told the partner’s wife about his mistress, but also leaked sensitive details of a high profile case that ended up having to settle out of court to avoid more scrutiny. They laughed over that one, but god Bree had caused quite the shit storm. 

Their conversations got deeper and funnier over time, sharing high school anecdotes and familial condolences over the incredibly long ride down to the lobby. And Blaine kind of, well, fell in love.

He chalked it up to a crush for a really long time, an appreciation of how good Kurt somehow always looked at the end of the day, when everyone else looked so haggard and tired, hair disheveled and clothes pulled out of place. Kurt managed to somehow look _better_ at the end of the day, like he’d settled into his outfit, like the work had rejuvenated him somehow. 

It wasn’t only physical, though. Kurt’s stories of his show choir, his father and his college days were as fascinating as they were sad – they painted the picture of this strong, resilient and incredible man. And Blaine was putty in his hands for the few moments they were together.

The phone ringing snapped him back to reality, to working Christmas Eve, and to what was hopefully just a client wanting to pay a bill. 

“Brown-Schaffer, how may I help you?” he asked in his cheeriest voice. 

“Is the lady of the house there?” 

Fucking robo calls. 

Blaine slammed the phone down as gently as he could while still letting out some of his annoyance. The firm got a fairly high number of scam calls every day, and yet Blaine was annoyed every single time one came through. As much as he actually hated talking on the phone, he hated answering the phone for no _reason_. 

“Guess it’s not a very merry morning for you, huh?” Kurt’s voice said from across the hall.

Blaine laughed. “If one more automated male voice asks me if the lady of the house is there, I might explode.”

Kurt walked towards him, leaning on the lip of the desk now. “But, _is_ she there?”

“You know I’ve actually listened to the whole message, and it’s some ‘political firefighters' organization’ asking for money, so I’ve decided she is decidedly _not_ there,” Blaine said, looking up at those beautiful blue eyes. 

Kurt was in the spirit of the holiday it seemed, wearing a tasteful ugly Christmas sweater and adorable reindeer antlers on his head. His laugh sounded like trilling bells, but that had nothing to do with the day. 

“I’m glad you’ve taken matters into your own hands, Blaine Warbler,” Kurt said, doing a mock salute on his way to the kitchen. 

Blaine sighed. It was almost pathetic how he lived for those little interactions. 

The morning passed with little incident. More scam calls, a few attorneys asking to talk to their secretaries as if they didn’t already have the direct line, and the occasional email from the building and the managing partners reminding the staff about the upcoming office closure and procedures for the phones. 

But around ten minutes before closing, he saw Kurt stop just in Blaine’s line of sight, set a large box on the ground and hug Brittany, the other secretary he shared a cubicle with. That was… unexpected. Not the hugging Brittany part, that was fairly routine with how kind Kurt was and how often Brittany’s boss yelled at her for no reason. 

But the box?

“We’ll still hang out, I promise,” he heard Kurt say softly. “You just started coming to our movie nights, and Santana really likes you – and she doesn’t like _anyone_! I’m pretty sure half the time she doesn’t even like _me_!” 

“But it won’t be the same, Kurt,” she whimpered. “Who’s going to help me when Miss Sue gets mean? Or when I forget to not write in color pens and the scanner goes crazy?”

“I’m sure your new desk buddy will be really nice,” Kurt grimaced. “And you know Blaine’s always here for you, no matter what you need.”

She shrugged, then took a step. “Okay, I – I’ll see you for movie night soon, yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Kurt said with a smile. “I’ll even bake those special lemon cookies you liked!”

“You’re the best,” Brittany sniffled out, walking past Blaine with a sad smile. 

Kurt sighed, then bent down to pick up the box on the ground. He walked towards Blaine, setting it back down on the reception seating. “How’s your day been so far?”

“Uneventful until now,” Blaine responded, unable to hide his confusion. 

“I – yeah, I got my dream job,” Kurt said, blushing a bit. “I found out an hour ago. Brown understood. Today’s my last day.”

A flood of emotions ran through Blaine’s entire being, but before he could even begin processing a single one, he was already jumping out of his seat and yelling, “Congratulations, oh my, God, _Kurt_!”

The bells were back, trilling with Kurt’s happy laughter, lighter than Blaine had ever heard him. “Thank you!”

Blaine jumped into acting, closing out of his computer and getting ready to leave, sensing Kurt was waiting for him, for the last time. “So is it that Vogue job you mentioned?” 

“It’s – actually Vanity Fair.” 

Adrenaline was pumping in Blaine’s veins, though he couldn’t begin to imagine how Kurt felt. 

But the sadness was overtaking him, and quickly. 

No more elevator rides, no more snide remarks over coffee, no more judgmental laughs each time an attorney asked for something stupid, or each time an assistant very _obviously_ bartered for a raise with a short skirt. 

No more Kurt. 

After this last elevator ride. 

Blaine hastily tied his scarf around his neck and set the phone on night mode, giving Kurt a sad smile. 

“Last time?” Blaine asked. 

“Let’s go.” Kurt nodded, lifting his box up again. 

Blaine waved goodbye at the secretaries that were starting to trickle out from their desks, wishing them a Merry Christmas and hoping they would take just long enough that he would have this last elevator ride with Kurt all to himself. The last thing he wanted was Tina chatting up a storm in the incessant way she usually did – god, he loved her, had even gotten her hired when her last place dismissed her for dubious but mostly understandable reasons, but she had a tendency to make everything about herself in a way Blaine just didn’t want at the moment.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, and Kurt and Blaine were the only two waiting. He flashed Kurt a smile and stepped in, pressing the button for them. Kurt set his box down, rolling his neck out and shuffling his feet around. 

“So what are you doing to celebrate?” Blaine asked, breaking the silence after they’d descended a few floors.

“Well, my roommate doesn’t know yet, and she’s already miserable because she can’t go home for the holidays, so probably nothing?” Kurt started. “My dad was so excited he wanted to come up, but I told him I’d celebrate with him soon, since now I have a few weeks off – they’re apparently still in the process of hiring for this new team and want everyone to start at the same time, which won’t be till mid-January.”

Blaine frowned, but Kurt once again read his mind. “Brown said he’d make sure my unused PTO paid out, and he had a hefty end of year bonus for me, so I’ll be fine on rent and stuff until the next payroll comes in.” 

Kurt wiggled his brows, but Blaine could sense the nerves coming off him. 

“I’m sure it will work out,” he said with a smile. “I know everyone here will miss you.”

“I’ll miss everyone, too.” He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath, and Blaine averted his eyes. They were nearing the single digits in their descent, and his time was running out. “Some more than others.”

“Yeah? I know Brittany’s a good friend, but you guys hung out after work, I’m sure she’ll want to continue that, right?”

Kurt took a deep breath once again. Was Blaine missing something?

“Not her,” Kurt mumbled.

Blaine’s heart was beating impossibly fast. 

Should he maybe invite Kurt out for coffee, as a goodbye? Or would that be silly? It was lunch time, maybe a quick lunch? But it was also Christmas Eve, he shouldn’t try to take up more of Kurt’s time.

Kurt suddenly whipped around, the movement almost too quick for Blaine to process. Kurt’s gloved hands were on his shoulders, and his intense eyes were staring into Blaine’s with an insecurity he had never seen there before. A little at odds with the antlers still on his head, but so _Kurt_ that Blaine was intoxicated. 

The question burned in Blaine’s mind, but he sensed Kurt needed to make a decision for himself. He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could even formulate the question, his lips were a bit occupied.

It took him a lot longer than he’d like to realize what was happening. The soft pressure on his lips, the heat from Kurt’s body, so much closer than ever before, the absolute fireworks in his stomach and the somersaults in his heart – it was all too much, and yet not enough. 

He pulled Kurt closer, wrapping his arms around his waist, so slim even covered by his coat, and pushed deeper into the kiss, everything else around him fading away. All that mattered was this other man, this beautiful, strong, amazing man who smelled so nice, who felt so warm in his embrace, who was _kissing him_ like his life depended on it. 

Blaine barely registered the elevator’s ding, or the doors opening. He didn’t register anything outside of Kurt’s embrace, until he heard a lady mutter, “I’ll take the next one,” and stalk off, her heels clicking behind her off the marble floors.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” Kurt breathed out. 

Blaine laughed, dumbfounded. 

“We should probably – uh,” Blaine started, glancing around to the elevator doors. The smile on his face was unmatched, his face so flushed, he couldn’t imagine what a sight he was.

Kurt choked out a laugh, taking a step back and bending to pick up his box. 

“No, I – I’ve got it,” Blaine said. 

He picked up Kurt’s box, a bit heavier than he expected, and followed him out, walking beside him. 

It was intoxicating, the magic in the air, in his head — buzzing from the kiss, the snowflakes falling in his face, and the magic of Christmas that he was starting to feel again. So he followed Kurt through every twist and turn, every garland-covered shrub and lit up building, all the way to his door, for the first time. 

But definitely not the last. 


End file.
